Till human voices wake us
by Flaming Bubbles of Death
Summary: Heavens to betsy!


Disclaimer: I don't own this. If I did, I would have millions and millions of dollars and certainly would not waste my precious time writing fan fiction. Yes, things would have been different if I hadn't sold that golden monkey.  
  
A/N: This story feeds off OoTP spoilers- they are its life-source. But you know what? If you haven't read it yet, what are you doing here? Get! Out! NOW!!!  
  
Now that that's settled, do you see those words below? You might be thinking, "Those cannot be part of the story, they are not in story format." But that's where you'd be wrong, mi amor. They help set the tone and give insight into the chapter. And in my opinion, that makes them part of the story. Remember, a little poetry never hurt anyone.that I've ever heard of at least. Please read them. I love them so.  
  
Summary: Hogwarts is where the students are safest, but that doesn't make them untouchable. The dark side has its eyes everywhere, and there is a constant undercurrent that most of the students have the luxury of ignoring. Harry must find a way to exorcise his demons or face the whiplash of the prophecy. And Draco gets he deserves (that can be interpreted in more ways than one, I'll elaborate more later).  
  
Pairings: Wouldn't you like to know? See, I think it would be a much more interesting romance if it wasn't so predictable that I told you before you even started. Here's the thing: we have our main characters, about 5 in number, and that leaves lots of options. They will happen, but I'm going to make you actually read my story to know what happens. I'm picky, I know, but that's how life is.  
  
* * *  
  
Line of people to pass you by  
  
Posing sympathy with its whitewash eyes  
  
With the ladies feigning their mourning cries  
  
And the men shaking hands:  
  
Weigh away  
  
Way away  
  
All the pictures in your mind  
  
As you're passed the thousandth time  
  
Thousandth photograph  
  
Listen to sympathetic lies  
  
As their reasons change under mourning guise  
  
With the gentlemen feigning sorrowed sighs  
  
And drinking champagne:  
  
Weigh away  
  
Way away  
  
As all the people pass and pose  
  
You hold back the tears  
  
And onto memories  
  
Small talk hangs like a dirty cloud  
  
Says nothing real but deafening loud  
  
An urge to run away from the crowd  
  
And mourn all alone  
  
Make a promise to no-one  
  
Wondering if you'd been worthwhile  
  
Turn away from the chatter  
  
And the hungry smiles  
  
-Way Away, Toad the Wet Sprocket  
  
The white light was stifling, coming in at every angle as it pushed violently through the summer haze. Harry shrank down between Mrs. Weasley and Hermione. They were surrounded by thirty or so other wizards, all baking in their best black robes. The humid air was heavy with human emotion: guilt, regret, pity. And mosquitoes. They danced around, mocking the mood of the day, gleefully daring anyone to swat them away  
  
Someone was giving a speech, but Harry was not listening. He was deeply rooted in his own mind.  
  
"Whoever thought that you needed other people to grieve was an idiot," he thought bitterly.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"HARRY! I'm being eaten alive by rabid house elves!"  
  
"Wha-?" Shaking his head vigorously, he found himself looking out at the countryside as it ran past under a more forgiving blue foggy light. The train shifted from side to side slightly as it rounded a corner. Realizing he was being spoken to, he quickly invented a response. "Oh yeah, I'm sure you're right, Ron."  
  
"Wow, for a moment there I almost thought you weren't listening to me," Ron snorted. "Foolish of me, really."  
  
"I'm sorry, Ron. I was just thinking."  
  
"About what?" Hermione jabbed her elbow into Ron's ribs, scowling at him. Harry smiled. She was trying so hard to dance the dance of political correctness in order to save him from awkward confrontation. It would have been almost touching if it weren't so damn bothersome.  
  
"Oh...just how hungry I am. Isn't the food cart usually here by now?"  
  
"Amen to that," Ron grinned.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. She was not so easily fooled, but did not press the matter any further, and for this, Harry was thankful. How was he supposed to move on with his life when he was treated like a china shop in an earthquake?  
  
At this moment, Ginny entered, burdened by chocolate frogs, corned beef sandwiches (much to Ron's disappointment), and Luna Lovegood (much to everyone's disappointment).  
  
"Don't tell me Mum expects us to eat those, Gin."  
  
"That's a laugh. No, I thought Neville would be in here. I saw him at the station and he's got some sort of enormous plant- I think it's carnivorous."  
  
"Charming," Ron wrinkled his nose in obvious disgust. "Has anyone seen Neville lately?"  
  
There was a long pause. Hermione cocked her head and stared at the ceiling intently, as though her memories of the day were playing out on some invisible screen. Harry shrugged his shoulders. Luna had seated herself in the corner of the compartment and was staring out the window blankly. As tradition dictated, she looked completely ridiculous. Harry was certain that her earrings were in truth Muggle slinkies and she wore a yellow feather boa around her neck that twitched from time to time ("to ward of vampires," she had told Ginny). And yet, Harry felt a certain affinity for her, as they could both see the thestrals, and she had proven herself not entirely useless the previous year in the Department of Mysteries...the Department of Mysteries. It seemed that all mental paths, all his trains of thought, eventually ended up at the same destination- exactly the one he wanted to avoid most. Harry had plenty of time at night to relive the experience, to analyze each moment, every movement he had made. It was much more useful than sleeping. But these constant flashbacks in the day must end. He would make them.  
  
"I saw him with that Slytherin boy." All heads in the compartment but one whipped around to face Luna. Her expression did not change, but a solid, cold undertone appeared in her voice. "The blond one. His father was there that night..."  
  
Ron and Hermione muttered "Malfoy!" and stood up to find him, but Harry was already in the next compartment. As soon as the word "Slytherin" had escaped Luna's lips, he knew what was happening. The farther he walked to the back of the train, where he knew they would be, the faster his pace became, until soon he was running.  
  
"Harry, wait!" Hermione shouted behind him, but he was already at the door of the last car of the train. Sure enough, Crabbe and Goyle were pinning each of Neville's arms to the wall and Malfoy way holding his plant dangerously close to his face.  
  
"What the-" Ron sputtered as soon as he and Hermione joined Harry at the door.  
  
Malfoy looked up at them, beaming in his arrogant revelry. "Potter, your hero routine is getting sloppy. I expected you here at least 15 minutes ago. But," he turned to sneer at Neville's face, "we've gotten along fine without you."  
  
It was remarkable how much Draco resembled his father when he wore that trademark smirk. All the taunts, all the insults, nothing could compare with the anger that one look elicited in Harry. He saw the man who was there on that spring night, and hate clouded the edges of Harry's vision. He forgot about rules, forgot about any other person in the room, as he charged at Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were not sure if they ought to continue to hold onto the struggling Neville or help their ringleader, and in their confusion, did nothing. Harry had delivered only one blow to his face when Hermione and Ron each grabbed an arm to restrain him.  
  
Malfoy grimaced and wiped a small stream of blood from his mouth, almost shaking with rage. "I wouldn't have expected you to resort to such lowly Muggle means of assault Potter," he spat. "But I suppose that was an oversight on my part- after all, you surround yourself with Mudblood lovers, not to mention the real thing." Hermione's grip on Harry's right arm loosened a bit.  
  
Draco cracked his jaw, still staring at them with cold eyes. "You'll pay for that, don't doubt it for a moment. You have no idea what's ahead of you..."  
  
"Tell me," Harry said in a dangerously soft tone. "Will you be so sure of yourself once your sorry excuse for a father is locked away in Azkaban?"  
  
Now it was Draco's blood that boiled. His perpetual coldness was melting away at the edges. He and Harry looked ready to kill each other. "Listen Potter, you have no right to- "  
  
"Is there a problem?" an older voice asked, and everyone but Harry and Draco turned around in surprise.  
  
"Ah...no Professor, everything's under control," said Ron, lying about the obvious situation that lay in front of all of them.  
  
"Well then Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said, ignoring his blatant lie. "I simply came to remind you, Miss Granger, and Mr. Malfoy, that there is a prefect meeting in the third compartment. But I'm sure you were aware of that."  
  
"Certainly, Professor," Malfoy said through gritted teeth, still locked in a staring match with Harry.  
  
She turned to leave, and there was a long stretch of silence. Draco took a deep breath to compose himself and said, "Well, duty calls.come on Crabbe, Goyle."  
  
Hermione and Ron waited until Malfoy and his bodyguards were a good distance away to release Harry. Ron muttered something that sounded a lot like "bloody prat" under his breath. Hermione did not correct him.  
  
* * *  
  
Draco was early for the meeting, and had the third compartment all to himself. Bloody prats, he thought. How dare they insult my father. It's their fault anyway. If Scarhead didn't have to be the hero all the time, none of this would have happened. Even Draco knew that his father was in real danger from the ministry. After denying Voldemort's return for so long, Fudge needed a sacrificial lamb to prove to the wizarding community that he was serious about combating this dark resurgence. The Death-eaters who had been at the ministry that night were a perfect opportunity. Lucius was in an awkward position- would he plead the Imperius Curse to save his own skin or reveal his loyalty to the Dark Lord and suffer the consequences? On one hand, he could face serious punishment from Voldemort if he renounced his allegiance. On the other, honesty would condemn him to the hell of the wizard prison.  
  
Draco felt a certain sense of pride knowing he had been assigned a great responsibility of his own mission to collect information. It was an opportunity to win great honor for the Malfoy family. So why was it whenever he thought about it he felt that disquiet in his gut? Was it fear? Possibly. He was not afraid to carry out this task. He was not afraid that he would fail. He had been waiting for this moment all his life, had been carefully groomed for this purpose. Perhaps, a voice inside him suggested, you are afraid of being wrong. That this is not your purpose. Such an idea shocked him- how could such thoughts come from his own head? It sounded like weakness speaking, and if he knew one thing, it was that weakness was not to be tolerated under any circumstances. So as the train ran on through the countryside, Draco strangled that voice of doubt until he was sure it was silenced.  
  
* * *  
  
Harry walked back to their original compartment alone. Hermione and Ron, despite their desire to stay and talk to him, had to go to their prefects meeting. Ginny and Luna had gone to see friends in their own year and Neville seemed to want to go with them, as Luna had taken an interest in his plant and he was eager to explain it to anyone who would listen.  
  
So as he slid the door open, he did not look around, did not see the cloaked figure sitting in his seat talking to Hedwig.  
  
"Hello Harry," said a soft familiar voice.  
  
Harry looked up to see, much to his surprise, Lupin.  
  
"What? How can you be hear?" lowering his voice, he added, "I thought you had business with the order."  
  
"This is my business. With that, um, unpleasant woman Umbridge taking a hiatus from the political scene, Dumbledore was able to pull a few strings and give me my old position. It's not nearly as exciting, but I'm more useful here."  
  
Harry sat down next to his friend. He had seemed to age years over the few months of summer and had many more streaks of gray in his hair. Harry had only seen him once at the funeral, as he had been off on official business for the rest of the summer. In truth, it was something he had missed, as Lupin was one of the only people he ever felt the urge to talk about Sirius to.  
  
Lupin watched Harry. He wanted so badly to reach out to the boy, or rather, young man, who looked more and more like James with each passing day. He knew he could not repeat Sirius' mistake, they were different people, after all. But he felt a strong bond with Harry. He was all he had left. Remus wanted to blurt out the real reason for his taking the position. He wanted to tell him about all he had to face this year, to warn him. But as he saw the paleness of Harry's skin, how those green eyes, no matter how sparkling, were exhausted, he understood why Dumbledore had advised him to be careful with what he said. Harry was burdened enough as it was.  
  
Lupin started rummaging through his worn bag until he found what he was looking for. Smiling, he handed a large piece of chocolate to Harry. Harry gave a weak grin, and took it. "I'm glad you're here," he said softly.  
  
As am I, thought Remus.  
  
* * *  
  
It had been late at night at number 12, Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore sat in an oversized chair that dwarfed him in comparison, and Lupin was in an overstuffed seat across from him, sipping a mug of hot chocolate. The fire crackled and hissed, the only light source in the room.  
  
"Voldemort is a great wizard," Dumbledore was saying. "Terrible, but great. However, over the past 15 years, he has again and again been unable to touch Harry. He has had to swallow his pride. He knows he cannot touch Harry while he is at Hogwarts. But he will try to weaken him in other ways before they must battle again."  
  
"I'll keep my eyes on him. I'll protect Harry, whatever the cost," Remus insisted. "You must know that."  
  
Dumbledore let out a sad sigh. "Tom was always a smart boy when I taught him in school. He's older now, and has become a master of manipulating, bending people to his will. What you must know is that in order to break a person, you must attack at all levels: physically, mentally, and emotionally. Now as I've said, Harry is being watched by everyone at Hogwarts. The chances of him being physically harmed while he is in our care are extremely slight. But that leaves the other two, which are much more dangerous and harder to control."  
  
"But you said they can't touch him while he's there!" Remus protested. "How can they get at his mind if they can't get to his body?"  
  
"I said," Dumbledore almost whispered, "that they cannot touch Harry." Understanding dawned on Lupin.  
  
"No," he said. "No, they can't. He's lost so much already!"  
  
"And that is precisely why you must be there, Remus. The Dark Lord knows that Harry will do anything to protect the ones he loves. He has seen how much he is effected when he fails."  
  
"So...he's going to use them. He's going to aim for them in order to break Harry." Lupin felt sick. And the hot chocolate did nothing to heal him. 


End file.
